


I Don't Know, I Guess I Think About You All The Time

by where_havealltheflowers_gone



Series: Song Inspired Fiction [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bittersweet Ending, Break Up, Isaac Feels, Isaac-centric, M/M, Moving On, Phone Calls & Telephones, Sad Isaac, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/where_havealltheflowers_gone/pseuds/where_havealltheflowers_gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac calls and leaves Stiles voicemails a few months after dumping him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Know, I Guess I Think About You All The Time

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY FIRST STISAAC FIC SO BE GENTLE.  
> I don't actually ship them on the show (sorry, too busy flailing over Sterek) but I do really think they would work in some alternate universe sort of way. 
> 
> Song is Hello by Schyler Fisk. (look her up, omfg)

(Hello, it's me again.   
A whole lots changed since I left,  
And, I don't know, I guess I felt like checkin' in.   
Surprise, you let it ring.   
Well, it's your turn to leave me hangin'.)

 

"Hey, Sti, it's me. I'm just...making sure you're alright. I know things got..intense a few months ago. But.. I just.. I hope you're okay. I.. yeah, that's all. Okay, bye."

 

(Hello, it's me again.  
It's three days now, you've been in my dreams.  
I don't know, I guess you've just been on my mind.  
I don't know,  
I guess I think about you all the time.)

 

"Hi, Stiles. Sorry for leaving all this shit on your phone. I know you're probably really busy and stuff. I just.. I just miss you. And that sounds really pathetic and stupid now because I could never say it back then, but I can say it now. Now that it doesn't matter anymore. Fuck, Sti, I... I loved you. Did you ever know that? Did you... I mean, I know I never said... But you, you knew, didn't you? Didn't you? I would just hate it if you never knew. Because people should... people should know when they're loved. Yeah. So. Just... know that. Okay?" 

"Hey, it's Isaac. Lahey. I mean, you know that. Anyway, I left a really embarrassing voicemail the other day. I was.. drunk. So, just.. ignore it. Or don't, whatever. 'Kay.. bye." 

 

(I'm sure it's hard to see me.  
I'm sure you don't believe a word,  
'Cause you've heard it all before.  
And we're so far from where we were.)

 

Isaac stepped through the front door of the grocery store where he and Stiles used to shop exactly six months, three days and eleven hours after they had broken up. He still had an overall feeling of impending doom, but he needed potato chips and laundry detergent, and there was no good reason why he had to drive twenty miles to WalMart when there was a cheaper option right next to his apartment building. 

At least there wasn't, until he saw Stiles in the snack aisle. 

His first instinct was to run. 

And then Stiles turned around. 

"Oh, hey, Eyes," Stiles greeted him easily, using his old nickname (which was supposedly a way of shortening 'Isaac' and also a reminder of Stiles' favorite thing about him (don't ask Isaac, he could never explain Stiles' line of thought)). 

"Hi, Stiles," Isaac replied, shooting a glance over his right shoulder and gripping his basket tightly in his hand. 

"How are you?" 

Isaac refocused on his ex. "Hmm? What? Oh, I'm... (miserable) okay." 

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, me too." A sad smile crept up on Stiles' face. "I should probably get going." 

"Yeah, of course." Isaac stepped to the side so Stiles could move around him. He pivoted and grabbed his wrist, pulling him close. He swallowed, eyes locked on Stiles' hand in his grip. "Look, I...uh, I left you voicemails. I mean, I've been trying to get ahold of you." 

"I know." 

Isaac met his eyes. "You got them?" 

"Yeah." 

"And you didn't call me back," Isaac deadpanned, releasing his grasp. 

"I just. I didn't think it was a good idea." 

Isaac looked down and to the side. Stiles rested a hand on his bicep. "Isaac? Did you hear me? I just didn't-" 

"I heard you," the blue-eyed boy snapped. 

"You broke up with me," Stiles reminded him gently. "I loved you, and you dumped me. I don't... I don't owe you anything."

Isaac said nothing. He didn't watch Stiles leave.

The next time he needed detergent, he drove the twenty miles to WalMart. 

 

(Goodbye.  
I'll let you go.  
I'll get back to life, livin' solo.  
'Cause I know I need a few years on my own.) 

 

Isaac stood by the fire he had created and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He cleared his throat, 

"Dear Stiles, I wrote you a letter that you're never going to read. You were the person who put me back together. You were the only one who knew how because you were the only one I let in. I still remember the night you first kissed me, when you cupped my cheek and pulled me in. I was so scared I was going to do something stupid. You never knew it, but you were my first kiss. You were my first everything. I think about that one night all the time, the night you made love to me. And then I made love to you. I was so afraid that I was going to wake up and you weren't going to be there. I remember you looking me in the eye and telling me you loved me, that you were never going to leave me. I was terrified of being so attatched to you. 

And I think that's why I left. I'm not so sure that what I felt for you was love. I was dependent on you and I was scared because all I've ever known is how to rely on someone and how to be scared of that person. I have never been alone. I have never felt safe. You tried. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry you loved me. I'm sorry I couldn't be who you thought I was.

All my best, Isaac."

Isaac tossed the paper into the roaring flame and tugged pictures out of his pocket. He threw them in one at a time, pausing to study the poses he and Stiles had captured in each one. 

He sighed once before shoving his hands into his pockets, turning on his heel, looking both ways and crossing the street into his new life.


End file.
